


Murderer Tells All!

by DesertHeart



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Seriel Murderer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertHeart/pseuds/DesertHeart
Summary: Serenity killed people, This is her story.Written for my Serial Murder Investigations class. Thought I would share.





	Murderer Tells All!

SERIAL MURDERER COMES CLEAN AFTER TEN YEARS!  
After ten years the serial killer Serenity Roberts has finally decided to let us know the inner workings of her mind and her true motivations, in this shocking tell all she tells us about her heinous crimes and the reasoning behind it. She also discusses the trial of her childhood. Read it here first!  
From Investigator Ralph Mills  
Don’t trust her, you want me to tell you what I think about her? Then don’t trust her. Serenity is extremely intelligent and knows how to work the room and an audience to her side. She is still a murderer no matter what she says her motivation was. I don’t really like talking about my cases but Serenity was a special one. She never regretted a thing. She was glad that she killed them and felt no remorse even when shown grieving family. She was also desperate to kill as many as she could. She told us so. She never withheld anything from us not really. The investigation was a pretty quick one. The family reported Jack missing and we went out with the hounds to find him. It didn’t take long to find him, just a few days. When the hounds sniffed him out and he was dug up it was obvious is was a cover up. Cause of death, suffocation. She seemed to have mixed styles of murder, organized due to her stalking and careful planning but disorganized due to the fact she didn’t really know who she was killing. She also had a clear signature once we dug up the other victims, she always suffocated them. She took trophies, books. She told us she didn’t know why but we have seen enough killers to know that it was to give her that continued satisfaction. When I questioned her she was agitated and tried to hide at first before seeming to give up. Most fight longer but I suppose she wanted to be caught. Maybe she wanted to be known. She was proud at the court, she told the judge she would do it again if she could. I guess my point is, she shouldn’t be trusted. No matter how good she makes herself sound to you. Also, I think she murdered her brother on purpose. I think it was her first intentional kill. If it wasn’t illegal to retry her for the same crime, I would insist upon it. I have included her criminal profile for reference.  
Profile of Serenity Roberts  
Name: Serenity Nicole Roberts  
Birthdate: June 6th, 1976  
Description: Born in Big Spring, Texas. Caucasian. Height- 5’4” Weight-187 Eye color- Brown Hair color- Long Dirty Blonde  
Locations Frequented: Resides at 6754 Token rd. Apt713 Visits friends’ houses, Libraries, bookstores. Olive garden.  
Family Background: Common law to Kayle Collins. No children. Mother- Saphire Roberts nee Potter. Birth Father- Sid Doner. Adopted Father- Jim Roberts  
Criminal Associates: David Puff: Drug Dealer.  
Criminal History: Self-defense killing of brother Travis. Murdered Steven De’Angelo. Micheal Collins, Mary Sue Ellen, Gary Banks, David Loafer, Eric Brie, Earl Poe, Jack Lester  
Business/Occupation: Fifth grade general education teacher at Travis elementary  
Signature of killer: Suffocation  
Motivation: To rid the world of people she believed were child rapists  
Method: Normally sexually seduced the victims before going home with them and drugging them with Rohypnol. Tying them up and leading them to trunk, suffocating them and then burying them in freshly dug graves.  
Style: Mixed style  
Paraphilia’s: Rape fantasies, rape porn addiction. Autoeroticism.  
Trophies: Took books from the victim’s home. Wrote the names and date of murder on the inside cover.  
Profile of victims: Victims were of varying ages and Races. Most men. Only one woman. The only connection is the murderer’s belief that the victims were pedophiles.  
My Story  
My name is Serenity Nicole Roberts. I am 41 years old now. I’ve been in jail for almost ten years. I will be incarcerated for the rest of my life. I would get out on Parole when I am around sixty or so but I won’t live that long. The magazines and news channels have been trying to get me to write out my autobiography for years now. “Why did you do it?” they always ask. I finally agreed to do so as long as they signed a written legal agreement that they will publish exactly what I write instead of altering it. If you want to know my story, I want it told in my words, I want the world to understand. What I did wasn’t okay but I was still doing everything that I could to protect people. I am not a hero. I am not a saint. I never asked to be. However I believe that I did what was right. They have asked me to keep this just about as short as I can. They want to publish this. Apparently they are going to speak with the lead investigator on my case as well. I just want them to know my side too. They were going to do this regardless so I hope my words will still be included. If you don’t know who I am or what I did by this point. I am a murderer. I don’t regret it.  
I was born on June 6th,1976 in a small rural town in west Texas. My mother was 16 when she got married, she actually got married before she got pregnant with me but was quickly pregnant. When I was born she had carried me for a whole ten months. The doctors didn’t think it was abnormal and they didn’t induce her at the time. My father wasn’t there when I was born. I was also supposed to be a boy. When I was born a girl they were not prepared. I actually frequently had testosterone issues through my entire life Later on being diagnosed with PCOS which basically meant that my estrogen didn’t produce right and my biological chemistry thought that I was male. Perhaps that led me to do what I did. Everyone knows that men are more unstable after all. Well, everyone reasonable does. That’s why most serial killers are male. I know that I had a heart condition as a child as well. I had to wear a heart monitor that I learned how to trigger in order to get my mother’s attention. The heart condition also came back as an Autoimmune when I was twenty four which led me to pick up my mission faster causing my to make mistakes I shouldn’t have which led to my capture. I was going to die, I wanted to get rid of as many rapists as possible before I did. I don’t remember much of my childhood but when I was two my younger brother was born. Travis. Not long after he was born my father tossed me out of a window. It was a first story window not high off of the ground but I was still injured. This was the final straw that made my mother leave him.  
For a while my mother and the two of us lived in her car before moving in with my grandfather. Eventually my mother met my stepfather. It wasn’t long until she moved in with him. He quickly became my dad and while I had vague memories of my abusive father, my brother did not and we lived happily. When I was in first grade I was diagnosed with severe ADHD. I couldn’t even write my own name. I did have an extremely high IQ though. I don’t really remember the exact numbers now but high enough that they were surprised that I couldn’t write my name. I was in second grade when things really started to take a turn for the worst. My stepsister, Olivia moved in with us, she was exactly five years older than me but she was only in the fifth grade. She was two year behind. I was seven and she was twelve. I don’t remember what grades she failed but I suppose that it really didn’t matter.  
We shared a room since we were the girls and slept on bunk beds. It wasn’t long before she started to have sex with me. I don’t remember how it really started but I didn’t know how to say no or even really what she was doing. She taught me everything that I needed to know though. Olivia had temper issues, and my brother started developing temper issues around this time as well. I thought I was protecting him when I would play games with Olivia. After a while I just liked the way it felt though. I don’t remember much from those days, from the two years she spent having sex with me, but I remember some of the games we would play, and I remember her saying to me one night, “She sold me you know, to a man, for drugs I think. All the time. She used to let him have sex with me. For years. I didn’t want to. Sometimes it hurt. Aren’t you glad I don’t hurt you?” I remember staring at her for a long time before responding, “But you do, look, I have a scar.” She had stabbed me while our parents were out. They let her watch my brother and I frequently. When I was nine years old things changed again, Olivia tried to have sex with a little boy who lived on our block. The little boy tried to do the same with his elderly grandmother. The grandmother reported it and he told them it was Olivia who had showed him how to do it. She was fourteen at the time.  
They came to me, my parents and the police, they asked me, “Has Olivia ever done anything to you that you don’t think she should of?” They had these little dolls, but I didn’t need them. I think I had been waiting for a long time to tell them. I remember one of the sentences I told them very clearly, “She kisses me, all over my whole body.” That was all they really needed. My parents were horrified. I wanted to tell them more, I wanted them to know everything, but I only told them some things, not everything. Perhaps I wanted to protect my mother and the man who had become my father. I found out that Olivia had been abusing Travis as well. I knew I had failed.  
Olivia went to a home, many homes and many therapy programs. I don’t think it helped her though. My brother Travis became increasingly violent and was diagnosed with Bipolar, Schizophrenia, ADD, and an Oedipus complex. He would hit, fight and scream. He hurt people, he would stab them. He broke my ribs. I began to use escapism to deal with my family issues and the abuse I suffered. I was different from everyone, I often failed to make friends. I did have two though. One of them who I met when I was nine would become my wife one day. Being an introvert was easy, I talked with my two friends, I went to therapy, and I read. That was about it. It never bothered me. I knew I was smarter and more mature than everyone else. I also knew a plethora of information that they didn’t. I knew about the taboo of sex.  
Throughout the rest of my childhood my brother became increasingly violent attacking teachers and other students, breaking my ribs and hitting me with a metal baseball bat. He continued to become overtly sexual as well. Showing me his penis and threatening to hurt me with it. He would hit and abuse the animals. He also set fire to things. Until the end of his life he peed the bed. I peed the bed until I was thirteen.  
In Sixth grade I learned a terrible thing, my best friend had also been sexually abused by her cousin. That was the first time I felt the urge to kill. I remembered Olivia’s hands around my neck, squeezing until I thought I would pass out. I wanted to do that to the man who had raped her. Together we used escapism in movies, books, and roleplay to hide from our stressors. A few other important events happened in my seventh grade year. I started dating my best friend, the one who was sexually abused by her cousin and whom I would marry one day, and I found Olivia’s diary. I spent probably a good year trying to break into it. Part of me wanted it for myself and part of me wanted to know what she had written in there. It was a bit anticlimactic once I did. Inside there was just a name and a phone number. Steven De’Angelo. I won’t write the number in here for privacy sake. I knew at once who he was. This was the man Olivia had told me about. The man that her mother had sold her to. I had that urge again, the one to kill. To squeeze until he never woke up. I kept the paper. I would still have it if I wasn’t in jail.  
My brother nearly killed my mother when he was fourteen, I was sixteen. She gave up custody and I didn’t see him again for a long time. He started coming for weekend visits eventually, he was still violent. Mom hated being there. I was in college then, freshman year. I came home for the weekends as well. Mom would go on dates with Dad sometimes.  
By this point everyone knows what happened, its public record, I will tell the short hand story here to save space and get to what everyone wants to know. Travis attacked me, he was going to rape me. He might have even killed me. I don’t remember, I know he told me he would. I was home alone without my father to restrain him. Mother never should have left us alone but she did anyway in her desire to get away from him. He was in love with her after all. The Oedipus complex. I had read that boys with that often kill their mothers. Well he was going to kill me first apparently, part of me wanted it, it would be easy, after all I had rape fantasies all the time, at this age it was the only way I could get off. The therapist said it was due to my abuse. Travis could rape me, then he would kill me and I would be done. No more living here. I didn’t let him though, my father had been letting me shoot guns now for eight years, and there was one in the living room under the couch cushions. I ran in there and got to it before he could get to me. I shot my brother that day, I shot him again and again. Until he stopped coming forward, then I may have shot him again. Then I called the police. I was arrested at the time but eventually proven innocent through Texas’ self-defense law. My mother struggled for a while but recovered quicker than I thought she would.  
I was relieved he was gone. That was when I knew I could do it, I could take a human life. By the time I turned nineteen I knew that I would again. I suspected around then that I was developing bipolar disorder. My emotions would soar and then drop, they still do. My mother told me I wouldn’t know if I was bipolar so I never went to go get tested. When I went through my psychological evaluation by the police they said that I was though. I started to plan, I knew exactly who I wanted to kill, I had considered my sister Olivia for a long while, but eventually decided on her rapist, Steven De’angelo. I also knew that I wanted to kill my fiancé’s rapist as well, Michael Collins. He was her cousin but I knew he wouldn’t be missed.  
I started to plan, Steven was closer, and I backtracked him by his number and found he lived in Tennessee. Michael lived in Alaska, he would have to wait. I found a drug dealer, I bought roofies, a lifetime supply for me since I didn’t plan to use them much, and I didn’t have much cash so I had sex with him in order to get them. It was a simple plan, I would make some cash on the street so it wasn’t trackable. I would drive to Tennessee while telling my parents I was camping. I would find him, flirt with him, convince him to have sex with me, and he would take me back to his place. Once there I would drug him with the roofies, it seemed a kind of poetic justice to use the date rape drug to get him. He wouldn’t fight, I would tie him up just to make sure, and then I would tell him why I was doing this. He wouldn’t remember or live to tell the tale after all. It made me feel better to explain why to him though. I would wrap him in trash bags and lead him to the trunk of my car and convince him to get in. I couldn’t carry him by myself after all and he would be extremely drugged. After that I would suffocate him just like I had always dreamed of doing. I would press a pillow over his face and smother him. I would prefer to strangle but I didn’t want there to be bruises. I would go to a cemetery and find someone who had just been buried, sometimes it took a while, I would dig up the freshly replaced dirt, it was easier that way, and then I would bury him there on top of this other coffin. Never to be found if the first person was never exhumed and it would be way easier on me. I am not very strong after all.  
I carried out my plan when I was twenty years old in the year of 1996. It was far easier than I had planned. While I was waiting for the drug to take affect I perused his bookshelves in the house, books were my favorite things after all. He was preparing for a sexy night or so he thought. I took a book with me, one I had wanted to read for a while. A young adult novel. I knew he kept books like that to entertain the children he brought here. I followed my plan besides that precisely to the letter. The only real problem I had was moving him from the trunk into the hole I had dug. I worried someone would see me but it was late at night. I drove back to school and continued living my life. I didn’t follow the investigation. I didn’t want to know.  
When I was twenty one I was ready to do it again. The planning took a bit longer this time. I had to make it to Alaska. I drove during summer break, again using only cash and no checks so that I couldn’t be tracked. It was easy to evade cameras back then. I told my parents and fiancé I was going to the Rockies to find myself. I had to cross the border into Canada to get there. I didn’t have a passport so I had to be very careful. No one really seemed to care or notice. I made it there, and followed the same plan. Luckily it was summer so the ground was able to be dug up easily. It was harder to find a plot to bury him in though. I stayed at his house an extra night, I picked out a book to take home with me, or I wanted to. All he had was porn magazines. I made due. I made it back home and followed the investigation because my Fiancé kept up. She was pleased with his disappearance. They never found him. I grew confident.  
When I was twenty two in 1998 I finally married my Fiancé. Not legally of course, lesbian marriage wasn’t legal in the states then. The ceremony was enough for us and our family though. In 2000 I learned my autoimmune was causing my heart to have a murmur and could potentially kill me at pretty much anytime if it attacked my heart again, that’s what it felt like at least. I was miserable but continued my job of teaching general education to the fifth grade population at my elementary school.  
I had never planned to kill again, but in 2002 when I was twenty six, a young boy told me one day about his babysitter who was abusing him. I tried to report it but no one would listen. His parents wouldn’t listen to him or to me. I dropped it with them and knew that I had to do something. It took a while to plan out without being caught and to find my drugs again, but this woman, Mary Sue Ellen, was in my hometown, she was 23 years old, just a little younger than me. I didn’t care, I killed her easily though I had to drug her at the bar instead of her home since she wasn’t sexually interested in me. I once again told my family and wife that I was going out of town and I took Mary Sue with me to bury her at a cemetery that I found. It seemed familiar so I took a book from her house as well before I returned home. I kept them on my bookshelf with their names written in the inside cover. My wife is dyslexic so she never bothered to look through them.  
In 2003 I learned about another rapist, another child abuser, Gary Bangs. I hadn’t planned on doing it again but I realized I needed the satisfaction again when I couldn’t stop dreaming about it. So I did it again, then again, and again. 2004, a rapist by the name of David Loafer, 2005, Eric Brie, 2006, Earl Poe, and in 2007, Jack Lester. I murdered all of these men, however, all of these men and the one woman, all had victims of their own. I took books from all of their houses, sometimes several if I really wanted them.  
Jack Lester was the one where I made my fatal mistake. I meant to follow the same plan as every other time, and if I had I could have kept killing, I could have kept saving those children. I didn’t bury him the same way I did everyone else, I had to dig a hole in the woods, I was thirty one and not really strong enough, I dug as deep as I could and then lit his body on fire, it burned for a while before I got scared and started to bury him. His body was found by the police and they were able to pull a fingerprint off of his body. By this time they could cross reference fingerprints which meant they were able to see my fingerprint from the time I was arrested for the self-defense killing of my brother Travis. I was caught. They questioned me, I didn’t handle it well. They searched my house, my sweet wife thought I was innocent the full time. For some reason they checked my books. They found the one I took from Jack Lester with his name and fingerprints on it. They found the others. I admitted to the murders of them eventually.  
During court my lawyer tried to plead me off on insanity. I let her do her best and I never lied. They wanted to know why I did it and I told them. They jury was sympathetic. I never plead not guilty. I accepted my consequences and was only given thirty years in prison due to the plea deal we ended up stricking. I had always hoped to return to my wife at home someday, she still comes and visits me. She understands now and still loves me. I am grateful.


End file.
